


You Dance When You Walk (2/4)

by anonymous_sibyl



Category: Friday Night Lights
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-21
Updated: 2006-10-21
Packaged: 2017-10-03 08:16:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymous_sibyl/pseuds/anonymous_sibyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Well you dance when you walk so let's dance, take a chance, understand me, you're dirty, sweet and you're my...</i><br/>She thought about stepping into the church and slamming the heavy wooden doors in his face, repentent Lyla shooing the devil away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Dance When You Walk (2/4)

**Author's Note:**

> A set of multifandom PWP ficlets. Title and summary are from T.Rex's "Get It On (Bang a Gong)" with a nod to The Power Station. A teensy smidgeon of church!kink, because Lyla's a good religious girl and Tim is the very devil on earth.
> 
> This work is licensed under a [Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License](http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/us/). None of the media or characters written about in my fanfiction belong to me and I make no profit from these works.

_Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.  
Yes, my child?  
I have... I have..._

She skipped confession that Sunday, took communion with a heavy heart, and wondered what she'd done that she couldn't confess to God or Jason. The next Sunday it was more of the same, and the next, until she sat herself down and reminded herself of the way things were.

She was Lyla Garrity. Her boyfriend was Jason Street, and they were going to have a life together. A good life. A _perfect_ life, and she would be damned if she'd ruin it by behaving like a spoiled child. The tiniest part of her brain said she'd be damned for what she'd already done, but God forgives if you ask, and she would ask.

"Can't go in, can ya?"

"Have you ever been in?" He's got no right standing there watching her, no right to be so beautiful in the dark on the steps of the church. He's got no right.

"Once or twice," he mumbles. "Pretty sure I was drunk there a few weeks ago."

"You can't be here."

He points to the sign out front saying all sinners are welcome and the one next to it saluting his team. "Maybe I got the call to come to Jesus. Seems addressed to me."

"And maybe you're full of shit!"

He laughs when she yells that and it's a beautiful laugh. He's got no right to it, no right to anything since everything of Jason's had been taken away. Everything including her.

"So you goin' in or not?" he asks. "Because if you're not, I've got better things we could do."

"Like what?" Tim took the stone steps two at a time to get to her, long legs cutting their distance in half, then quarter, sooner than she was comfortable with. She thought about stepping into the church and slamming the heavy wooden doors in his face, repentent Lyla shooing the devil away. "Get thee behind me, Satan," she whispered, mostly to herself.

"I didn't do it alone," he said. "You were there." He wrapped his fingers into fists. "You were there!"

"I was. Oh, God, I was." His face was hot under her fingers, hotter than she'd expected, hotter than Jason had been since the accident. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She turned her back to him and rested her burning cheeks against the door. "I am so sorry."

"You think it was wrong," he said, and it was not a question.

"You know it was wrong," she replied without turning around, not even when he placed one hand on her bare shoulder and the other around her waist. "You know it, Tim."

"I know we--"

His voice broke, or he stopped talking, or he just didn't care. Lyla didn't care either, because his hand was lifting her hair clear and his mouth was on her neck, and forgiveness was suddenly the furthest thing from her mind.

"I know we... needed," he finished. "Each other. We needed each other and we needed him. And he wasn't there."

"Why wasn't he there?" she whispered. "Why? It's not fair, Tim, you know it's not."

"Nothin' is."

She twisted and turned in his arms until they were face to face, and she pulled his head down to her, thinking maybe to comfort him, or maybe just to have him close. His voice rumbled against her neck.

"Do you pray, Lyla?"

Her throat felt as if it were closing up and she could barely breathe. "Yes."

"Do you pray for him?"

She wrapped her arms around his shaking body and squeezed. "Yes."

"Do you ever pray for me?" He shook his head and tried to pull away. "No. Why would you? I'm not worth the prayers, right? Why waste 'em on me?"

"Tim," she said, and stood on her toes until she could reach his mouth with her own. He pushed back until she was resting on the doors, bronze handle digging into her back, his hands digging into her sides. She prayed his name into his mouth and hoped he understood what she'd just learned, that sometimes prayer came in other forms, and sometimes seeking solace wasn't the sin you'd been brought up to believe it was. "Tim."

He reached around her and pushed the door open. Suddenly off balance she slumped toward him and he caught her easily before letting go with a flourish. "Coming inside, Lyla Garrity?" he asked, standing half inside.

"Of course." She took his hand and followed, mouth still aching from his kiss. "Wouldn't want to miss the lightning strike, would I?"

He pushed her onto the nearest pew as the door closed behind them, and she prayed right then, for Jason, for herself, for Tim, and most of all that God wouldn't so much care about the sinning she was about to do in his house. Oh, did she pray.

"Tim."


End file.
